Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32
When I walked into my college-level senior English class that warm spring day, I was expecting the usual hi-jinks. School was nearly finished and most of my students, even though they were the best & the brightest, had shut down some weeks before. They were all graduating, all accepted at college, all kicking back & enjoying their last month of high school. Oh, they weren’t being utterly disrespectful or rude, nor were they defiant or insubordinate in any major way. But the dress code was ignored and the boys no longer kept their ties tightly knotted, the girls had forgotten the top buttons of their blouses even existed and their skirts were apparently shrinking. Like most of the other teachers, I threw up my hands and smiled right along with them. We had just read “A Separate Peace” and everyone was trying to be a Finny, the “model boy (or girl) who is most comfortable in the truant’s corner”, and they were succeeding. Today, I found the usual assortment of notes strewn through my room. I read them, typically they were dirty jokes & caricatures of me (some of them ludicrous, the rest on the mark) — the elder teacher (well 50 is old, I admit) with a ponytail and beard. The general opinion seemed to be that I belonged to the “hippy” generation and that I was exceedingly cool. At least that’s what the drawings showed. Then there was one note in a sealed envelope tucked in my desk drawer. Now this was unusual to put it mildly.
I sat and listened to the giggles & laughter as the seniors exchanged yearbooks, signing books & dissing one another. My book was circulating the room & I was being prevailed upon to autograph books. In a brief break, I slit the edge of the mystery envelope. I took out the note and with it were photos or computer printouts of photos. I immediately put them back for they were absolutely pornographic. One showed two of the most macho senior boys in a hot 69. Their bodies were muscular and smooth, almost hairless and they were sucking each other’s cocks. Neither seemed able to take all of the others organ into his mouth and their balls…well poker oyna they were exquisite, large and lightly furred. The boys seemed to be in ecstasy. My cock was lurching in my Dockers, for I had never seen anything as powerful. I snuck the second photo out. It was of another senior boy…tall, slim, blond, beautiful, being serviced by one of the girls who was sucking his long lovely cock. From the photo, I guessed it had to be over 8″ long, and my mouth watered as I looked at it. The third was of the same boy being fucked in the ass by another of the senior boys, one of the football players from the first photo. This angel’s face was filled with passion and joy while he was being sodomized by a cock that had to be 9″ long and 2″ around. My brain reeled and my cock throbbed. In all my years of looking at erotic photos, on the internet & elsewhere, I hadn’t felt such power. Undoubtedly this was because I knew these boys and recognized the girl, one of the bevy of cute black girls who roamed the halls in a pack. I suddenly was struck by a major question. Who had taken these salacious photos and why were they on my desk? Which of my seniors could have done this? I slipped the first three photos into the envelope and opened the note.
The answer became obvious. There was a 4th photo, of Amelia Beaulais, one of my loveliest and smartest girls, quite naked, her legs spread and both the “angel” and the pretty black girl were servicing her. The girl was kissing her breasts and the boy was between her legs. Amelia’s face was blissful, looking like she had just cum and her hands were in the boy’s hair. The 5th and final photo was of Amelia stroking the girl’s hair while the girl (now in a strap-on) fucked the “angel” in the ass. All three were looking at the camera, each with a look of lust in their eyes. I knew I was blushing and when I read the note, I must have been burning! It read, “Sir, Jenny, Alex, and I would love to play with you…please?”
I looked up and amidst the pandemonium, I saw Amelia gazing at me. I met her eyes and saw the silent plea there. I slowly canlı poker oyna nodded yes, just as the bell rang. The students all disappeared except for the girl who had just propositioned me. She stood and came to my desk. I sat, frozen in place and time. She stroked my hair and whispered, “I want you so much right now. Will you please fuck me, Teacher?”
I nodded and she moved past my desk to stand in front of me. She lifted her skirt and showed me a beautiful smooth pussy. Her café-au-lait skin was taut and smooth and perfect. The labia were puffy and slightly open, and the clit stood out. It was pierced with a single gold hoop. She slipped her fingernails into her sex and brought out a dollop of her juices. She looked at me and smiled. Then she dropped her skirt and unbuckled and unzipped my jeans, fishing out my long hard cock. She rose above me and, gripping my cock in one hand, her finely manicured nails glistening with her own juices, she lowered herself onto it.
As she mounted me, I felt heaven. Her sheath was tight and wet and warm, her breasts rubbed my chest through her blouse then they were tangled in my hair. She kissed me hard and deep, and I could hear the murmurs of her building arousal deep in her throat. I slipped my hands under her skirt and grasped her full tight ass cheeks, helping to guide her speed. We built our speed and rhythm until we were slapping into one another. She unbuttoned her blouse and pinched her nipples through her satin bra. Then she opened the bra’s front clasps and brought her nipples to my mouth. As we fucked harder and faster, my teeth nipped her nipples, biting and tugging at them. She began a wailed chant of encouragement. I felt my orgasm building and as it exploded from my cock, I grasped her ass tight enough to hurt and growled, “cum for your Teacher, Amelia, cum now!” She yelled her orgasm and her pussy clenched my cock tighter as I loosed my orgasm into her.
As we came back to earth, she rose from the chair and sat on the edge of my desk. With her manicured nails, she fed me both my cum and hers, internet casino taking a taste herself every so often. Then she knelt before my chair and bathed my cock with her tongue until I was soft again. Then this dream girl rose and put herself back together. She kissed me lightly and whispered, “Next time, it’ll be 3 of us!” She ran from my room, giggling and I sat back and smiled.
I went home that night with the photos, the notes, and the memories of the afternoon tryst. It took me quite a while to get calmed down. Finally, after two Jack Daniel’s, a bit of dinner, and an evening of watching the Cubs (still in first?!!!), I felt like I could sleep. I went to check my email before bed. Nothing unusual, until a signature I didn’t know and a header “For My Teacher”. When I opened it, there was an erotic greeting card (copied from NastyCards) of a boy in angel wings and a halo. Except he was no angel… he was sucking a grown man’s cock while a woman in strap-on knelt behind him, threatening his bum. The message read, “I’ll bring your angel to you Friday night. Love, Your schoolgirl slut.”
That did it; I was hard as rock, randy, and ready to roll. I looked at the card and slowly stroked myself. It felt so good, thinking of what I’d do how Alex would undress as Amelia told him what to do; how she’d stroke his cock as he undressed her; how he’d kneel and worship her; how she’d guide him to me, tell him to undress me, to pet and stroke my cock, to kneel before me and take it all in his mouth, to turn and present his bum to me; how I’d move behind him and slowly fuck him as she lay next to him, stroking him while he ate her until we all came together, my cock buried in his ass. I masturbated until I exploded all over my stomach, chest, and my face. And I scooped it up and licked it from my fingers, whispering her name. Then I went to bed, having the most erotic dreams I could remember. Twice in the night I jerked awake moaning as I took Alex’s ass while Amelia held him or stroked my cock as it moved out of him.
To put it mildly, I was half-asleep when the day started at school. I must have looked like a zombie, but I was there. I wouldn’t miss this day, this Friday, for anything!
End of Part one
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32